


Summer Rain

by writer_roha



Series: Summer Rain [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_roha/pseuds/writer_roha
Summary: Long distance relationships just don't work.





	Summer Rain

**Author's Note:**

> i made a little 3 song playlist that goes perfectly with this (i wrote this to these 3 songs exclusively)  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/jjiont/playlist/7bfr3CBL4pujEn6ZUSyNn6 and i hope it heightens the mood for you too

You were surprised you even lasted that long. Sanha asked you out on a sunny day at the end of your school trip to the beach in your first year of high school. You could count on two hands the amount of times you had exchanged words; most of them being niceties and courteous hello's. The brunette was in your class so it was almost impossible not to have talked to him.

The confession took you by surprise because you hardly knew much about him. But Sanha wasn't a bad person, and to see the bright pink clouding his cheeks when he looked at you warmed your heart just a bit. How could you say no? It was high school and small relationships like these were all apart of the experience.

Your relationship with Sanha ended up being anything but small, however. It took you two weeks to fall in love with Sanha. With every second he spent with you, you felt yourself tumbling further into limbo. The quiet boy's personality blossomed as you got closer. He cracked jokes as often as he could to get even the smallest of smiles out of you. And not a day would pass without him texting you about something that he saw that reminded him of you, whether that be a flower, a song, or a cloud in the sky. Before you knew it, he was on your mind just as much as you were on his.

It took half a year before Sanha even kissed you. You weren't impatient because you knew that he wasn't withholding himself out of lack of affection; he just wasn't ready yet. So you waited, perfectly content with the gentle hand holds and the affectionate hugs. Sanha's first kiss was surprisingly assertive. He asked first, firmly, to which you gave a slight nod. He held your face in his hands with almost practiced hands but when his plush lips pressed against your's, you could tell that he was anything but. On his lips, you could taste sincerity. 

Time passed, and Sanha came into his own. He knew who he was, and had no trouble displaying that. His eagerness to impress and earn your favor fell away, and was replaced with a kind and loving self that knew you. He knew the words to say to melt you and the times to hold you to make everything okay again. He kissed you easier and his place next to you was almost ingrained. You didn't want to say that things were easy with the two of you by the time you had reached junior year, but it was easier. There was no need to spend time getting to know each other anymore because it was already known, so all that leftover time was spent enjoying each other's company.

Senior year came, and you couldn't imagine a life, or a future without Sanha. But the reality glared you straight in the face. High school sweethearts were not a thing. It never worked out, and for those who tried, it only bred contempt between partners. You didn't want that, but you couldn't bear to part with your love either. It was September when the realization had come upon you, there was still plenty of time before graduation was to be upon you. You didn't need to think about it now; it hurt too much.

When the snow touched the earth in November, Sanha told you to bundle up. He had bought two pairs of orange gloves; a pair for you, and a pair for himself. "To match," he laughed.

It was after school and he stopped you on your walk to the bus stop together to slide them onto your hands himself. Perhaps it was the warmth of his hands cupping your cheeks before he kissed you sweetly, or the soft rub of cotton from the obnoxiously orange gloves pulling away from your face. Or maybe it was the way the light snowflakes looked in his chesnut brown hair. But you began to weep. You felt shame wash over you as your buried your face into your hands and let your tears dampen the brand new gloves. 

"What's wrong?!" Sanha cried, trying to pry your hands from your face. You wouldn't let him; he couldn't see you like this. Instead, Sanha pulled you into himself. "What did I do? Please tell me." He spoke with his face buried in your hair.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak at first. How could you tell him? You didn't know how long you could keep his light to yourself before everything went to shit. If you told him, he would surely think you were crazy, or stupid. After a moment, you realized that Sanha was still patiently waiting for an answer as he cradled you softly against himself. You pulled away, feeling a bit embarrassed as you rubbed the remnants of your tears away and sniffed a bit. "I'm okay," you breathed.

"Please don't lie," Sanha pleaded, "You can tell me."

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue, fighting to come out, but you swallowed it down. "I promise I'm okay. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, that's all. I'm glad you're here, and I love you. Thank you for the gloves," you reassured.

"If you say so," the brunette uttered uneasily, "I don't know what it is that's on your mind but I'm here for you and I love you so much." He took your hand into his own and led you to the bus stop, taking your silence as something of an apology. You let yourself breathe when he leaned into you on the bus and fiddled with your fingers. He was still your's.

 

The snow thawed and the trees began to bud. New life was a sign of the passage of time that you forced yourself not to think about. But the weight of the uncertain future continued to press onto your heart.

When Sanha showed up on a Friday night for a sleepover with bobby pins tucking a few of his bangs to the side, you felt your heart stutter. "Cute," you blurted the second your eyes fell into the little 'x' pattern of the pins.

"Oh, this?" Sanha touched the hair clips gingerly as you let him inside, "They're getting a bit long, but I'm too scared to cut them myself." Sanha went to your room on his own to leave his stuff there as he was already well-aquainted with your home. Your parents were out of town to visit your grandparents and they had said that they'd rather their future son-in-law watch the house with you than leave you on your own. Their words, not your's.

"Do you want me to cut it tomorrow?" you offered once he came back to the living room and settled down beside you.

"I'm good," Sanha shook his head, "Besides, I kinda like it. You said it's cute so I don't mind this look." He smiled a bit triumpantly.

"It is cute," you chuckled, patting your boyfriend's head a bit. 

The two of you continued to watch movies for the rest of the night while cuddled up under a thousand blankets on your tiny twin bed. You felt like one soul as the rise and fall of his chest fell in time with your own. The slide of his thumb on the back of your hand felt like the wind in spring. 

It didn't take long for Sanha to doze off well into your sixth movie. His breathing slowed and his eyes fell shut; the dim light casting a soft shadow from his lashes. You turned off the movie and with a bit of grumbling, you got Sanha to properly lay down. Carefully, you slid the bobby pins from his hair and smiled a bit as his long hair covered his forehead. 

"Goodnight," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Mm," he mumbled back and pulled you into himself, searching for warmth in his hazy half-awake state. You let yourself burrow into the soft fabric of his sweater and surround yourself with his presence. This was home. But for how long?

The patter of rain against your window woke you. The sky was still dark and the moon was still risen. You hadn't slept for long. Quietly, you slipped out from the covers and watched cautiously as Sanha slumped further into the pillow at your absence, but continued to sleep nonetheless. The low, wide windowsill by your bed invited you to itself, so you sat down, tucking your knees into your chest and looking to the stars for answers. What were you to say? And when? Staying together was impossible. Sanha had gushed to you about the college he had been accepted to with the amazing music program, and with a heavy heart, you told him about the architecture program you had gotten into two cities away. At your news, he only grinned and congratulated you with a kiss; demanding a congratulatory kiss of his own. Didn't he know what this meant? Two cities might as well have been an ocean with the rest of the things that would pull you apart. Did Sanha think that you could somehow make it through unscathed? 

The stars did not answer. 

"Pumpkin?" a sleep-heavy voice called out to you from the bed. A bit of shuffling and he was upright. 

"Go back to sleep," you muttered, keeping your eyes locked on the streaks of rain racing down the glass.

A bit more shuffling, and a familiar pair of arms encircled your waist, followed by a warm chest that pressed against your back. Sanha's thumb touched your cheek. "Honey, why are you crying?"

 

Sanha held you tightly for the rest of the night. He didn't ask for an explanation; only running his fingers through your hair while you wept into his night shirt. "I've got you," he murmured softly. 

When you awoke again, the sun was piercing through the blinds that were pulled open and the space beside you was empty. Your eyes stung and you didn't need to look at them to tell that they were red-rimmed. Quiet humming came from the kitchen accompanied by the wafting smell of fruity tea. You felt a bit embarrassed, not wanting Sanha to see you after such a display of vulnerability. However, the grumbling of your stomach told you that you had to go, whether you liked it or not.

"Good morning," you muttered sheepishly as you stepped into the kitchen. 

Sanha perked up from his spot at the counter and turned to face you with a soft smile on his face. "Good morning, are you feeling any better?" he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks the way he always did, "I made you tea and some eggs, I hope that's okay."

"That's great thank you," you kissed the corner of his mouth, "I feel better now." It wasn't a complete lie. No matter how down you could feel, the warmth in Sanha's palms and the comfort in his smile always lifted your spirits, even if it was just the smallest bit. 

Sanha didn't ask what was on your mind. Maybe he could read the plead in your eyes or the tension in the air; whatever it was, he kept to himself, keeping the atmosphere light. The tea was raspberry.

 

It didn't get better. A mere glance would leave an ache in your heart and a stutter in your smile. Before you knew it, the two of you would be miles away from each other, only connected by the strings of your hearts. You didn't know how much wear they could handle. 

The trees had finally bore leaves that swayed in the breeze and flowers came into being through the dirt. The sun had began to hang longer in the sky. It was a few weeks before graduation.

"So I was thinking about when we move apart for college," Sanha mused, gazing at you over the top of his textbook. You were doing homework together at your house. "If you can, maybe we can call every day or so, and we'll take turns visiting each other on the weekends. I don't know how I'll last if I can't see you at least that much." He chuckled softly.

"Let's stop this," you blurted. You were in your head all day, and it was only a matter of time before those words came spilling out.

"What?" Sanha blinked in confusion, "Stop what?" 

"This. Us," you motioned to the space between you. With every breath you took, it seemed that your ribs grew heavier and heavier. Sanha's hands began to tremble as the reality sat in and in that instant, you wished you could take it all back.

"What's going on? Did I- Did I do something to hurt you?" Sanha asked frantically. His eyes widened in panic and his breath stuttered. "Let me fix it, please."

"No, you're perfect," you sighed, "But high school sweet hearts don't exist. I don't want us to have a bad break up down the line." As if this wasn't bad enough already.

"That's what this is about? Don't you believe in us? We can make it work," Sanha reasoned; always the one to see the light in every situation. "Don't you at least want to try?!"

"Just about every couple that tries to stay together in university break up! And those are the ones that go to the same school!" you exclaimed, eyes stinging with tears and palms growing hot as they clenched together. Why couldn't he just accept it? Why did he insist on dragging this out and hurting you more? "The ones that do stay together hate each other and only hold each other back."

"Do I hold you back?" his voice quivered.

"No!" you fretted, "But one day, you're going to be this amazing musician and you're gonna meet the most amazing people in the world and when you begin to see the kind of light there is in the world, I don't want you to resent me for trying to keep you to myself." 

"Then keep me!" Sanha begged. 

"You don't get it!" you screamed, burying your face in your hands. 

"What don't I get? Help me understand, so I can show you that if any couple can make it, it's us. What we have is real, and distance can't touch that," he pressed. 

"Life isn't that forgiving! I want to believe in us, baby, I do-"

"Then why won't you?" Sanha's voice broke and you could feel your heart stop as you saw a tears begin to fall from his eyes. He tried furiously to wipe them away but it didn't help, as they only poured more.

"I want to," you whimpered.

"Then do it!" he yelled. He had only raised his voice at you a few times before.

"I don't want you to hate me! You'll despise me by the end of everything. I can't take that, Sanha. I love you too much, please try to understand," you pleaded. 

"I can't understand, I'm sorry," Sanha stood up from his seat and began to pack his things away with shaky hands. "You're my entire world, so there's no possible situation wherein I could even begin to hate you. Nothing can change that; not college, or you pushing me away. But this is what you want right?" 

His smile smile was melancholic and his eyes were vacant when he stepped out the door. And you couldn't bring yourself to stop him. You had to convince yourself that this was better than a yelling match where all the two of you could see was red; inhibitions and the love you held for each other thrown out the window. This was better than the fight you knew you would have down the road. It was the only ending to this situation. So this was the right thing. This would hurt less. 

Right?

 

He wouldn't look at you at graduation. It was supposed to be a happy day. The bags under his eyes were dark. He surrounded himself amongst the ranks of the other friends that he had, falling in line between them, away from you. 

This was for the best.

So why did it hurt? Once you got home from the ceremony, why couldn't you stop crying? Everything felt wrong. You missed the earnest fire in Sanha's eyes. You missed the mischevious curl at the ends of his lips when you knew he was up to something. You missed the way he held you with such gentleness, as though you were made from glass. You missed the bubble of his laugh. You missed he way his hands fit into your's like it was destined.

You asked yourself how the boy that spilled out a rushed, half-coherent confession at your 9th grade beach trip became the boy that tumbled into bed with you at night and whispered all his dreams and secrets into the back of your hand. How he became the boy that helped you slip into the sweaters you'd get tangled in with a clumsy smile. Or how he became the boy that wrote you mini love letters in second period and covered you in kisses at lunch. 

And how did the boy that held your heart in his hands become the boy that looked like death and couldn't spare you a single glance? 

 

Summer break began and it was as if the world had gone still beneath the sweltering sun. You hardly left the house, instead letting yourself drown in memories while the days counted down to when you were to leave for college at the end of August. A few of your friends invited you out but you could see that they were basking in their newfound independence and you couldn't bear to ruin their happiness. You didn't call or message Sanha. How could you? You asked for this, and you knew that your selfishness would only breed more hurt. As if that were possible. 

Whenever memories of the two of you arose, as they often did, it felt as though you couldn't breathe. Your chest was heavy and your lungs felt empty after each inhalation. You wanted the weight gone. You wished time could stop for the two of you so the worries of the outside world would cease to matter and you could live happily together. But you had burned your bridges; who knew if you still held a place in Sanha's heart anymore. 

It was mid-july. Your city was small, so you should've known better. How could you expect to go the rest of summer without seeing him? 

You decided to go out for a much-needed walk. The heat was less oppressive today and a slow breeze was blowing through town. A walk to the park and back would only take an hour if you took your time. Evidently, it was a place that you and Sanha went to on warm days with nothing to do. It truly was only a matter of time before your feet dragged you back there. Many memories were made there. 

The park was the place where Sanha first entwined his fingers with you. There were many days where you had talked till the moon was high in the sky about anything and everything. It was there that you had resolved your first fight.

It was petty really. You had both been stressed out during test season, so emotions were already pent up. The cancellation of several dates between the two of you paired with the immature lack of emotional understanding led to a bit of a spat which resulted in radio silence between you two for days. By the end of it, you had both come to your senses and came running to each other in tears. You talked it out, then hugged it out, then kissed it out on the swings. If only things were that easy. 

The park was as pretty as you has remembered it- it must've been almost a year since you and Sanha had last come here. The playground was a bit rusted and the grass a bit brown, but there was still life. As you made your way around a thick bush that opened up to the park, you heard the familiar squeak of the old swing set. And there Sanha was.

The brunette had cut his bangs so he could finally see through them. Other than that, he was much the same as when you had last seen him on graduation day. He was wearing jeans and a graphic t-shirt that you had bought for him as a joke. It had a single cartoon dog in the center; you could recognize it anywhere. And he was alone. His eyes were downcast as he swung slowly back and forth and kicked his feet absentmindedly in the dust. 

You couldn't move from your spot behind the bush. Another foot forward and Sanha would see you as clear as day. A part of you wanted that. You wanted to run to him and cry and just let him hold you the way he had done many times. As undeserving as you were, you still longed to be held again. Your heart pounded as you watched him for a bit. He was right there within your grasp; maybe you could still take it back. But your feet stayed grounded; rooted by fear. The what-ifs began to flood your head and all at once everything became too much. You couldn't talk to him. Not now, not ever.

Your feet were heavy when they dragged you home. Of course you didn't say anything. You could only watch from afar.

 

Summer continued to wind by. You still went on walks when you could, but you avoided the park like a plague. You couldn't handle seeing Sanha again like that; you'd only make things worse. Not a day would pass where you wouldn't look through photos of you and Sanha together, you couldn't convince yourself to delete them, no matter how much your heart ached. 

It was mid-august. Only a few weeks left before you and Sanha would go your separate ways and never see each other again. Your palms and your chest burned at the thought that Sanha would probably forget about you eventually. He'd get a career that he loved and down the line, he'd give someone else his heart. It pained you to think that maybe Sanha would cup his new significant other's face in his hands before kissing them. Maybe he'd give silly matching gloves in the colder seasons. Curse his giving nature.

Your head was spinning, so you left on a walk, hoping to clear your head. You wanted to walk as far as you could before you got tired, then you'd head back. The sun was still shining, but on the horizon, you could see heavy grey clouds making their way closer and closer. You convinced yourself that you'd be home before it began to pour.

It was fine for the first forty minutes. Peaceful almost, save for the thoughts racing in your mind. You wanted to see him. 

The rain did not make a graceful entrance. It came all at once like a breath held for too long. Only an instant had passed and you were already soaked. You were too far from home, so you searched desperately for cover. Not too far off was a bus shelter, so you made your way down the street towards it.

A sigh of relief left your lips once you got under its roof. The rain was warm, but you hated getting wet. "Oh," a voice said behind you. No way. You whipped around and saw your ex-boyfriend sitting on the bench, looking equally drenched. 

"Sorry," you muttered quietly, turning back around to face the outside. You weren't sure what it was that you were apoligizing for. You leaned your head against the glass frame and felt your heart jump into your throat. How fucking cliché. He was right there, as you wished him to be for months, but now that he was within reach, you couldn't move. You just hoped that the summer rain would pass quickly as it almost always did.

It didn't.

A good fifteen minutes had passed and the downpour showed no sign of letting up any time soon. Your hair was beginning to dry.

"You can sit down, you know," Sanha murmured quietly behind you. 

"It's okay," you shook your head, not having the courage to face him.

"It's fine. And it looks like the rain isn't going any time soon," he supplied, patting the spot beside himself. Silently, you gave in, the way you almost always did when it came to him, and sat down. You weren't too far from him, but you weren't too close either. A happy medium. 

The silence continued and the tension grew so thick that you swore you could shape it in your hands. You refused to look up, keeping your eyes glued to your knees. Sanha shifted uncomfortably in his seat but said nothing. It's not like you could jump into casual conversation after what you had done; what you had said.

"I, um, I knew you didn't like me back when I asked you out," Sanha began softly, and your head whipped up, "So I tried my hardest to make you see me the way I saw you. It was hard, and a bit embarrassing on my part at some points, but I knew my work paid off when you began to lean into my touch when I held you." You peeked over, and Sanha wasn't looking at you, but instead at his fingers that he was fiddling with nervously.

"Sanha," you sighed, "Why are you-"

"If I held you now, would you lean into me?" he asked, finally looking up, "Do you still see me as I see you? Do you still love me, Y/N?"

His eyes were full of pain and longing when they met your's. Is this what you looked like? "Sanha, I'll always love you, make no mistake."

"Then why?" he croaked.

"You know why,"

"Then I'll move to your school. It's not too late," Sanha suggested.

"You don't want that, and neither do I. This is your dream we're talking about here. You can't just give that all up for me," you sputtered.

"I can. I'd trade that all in a heartbeat if it meant that we could still be together," he insisted.

"Do you really see a future in us?" you asked after a moment, "Truly, do you see one?"

"It's the only future I see," Sanha affirmed.

You felt yourself begin to cave, as you always did. "If somewhere down the line, you find that you don't love me anymore, you can't pretend like you do. You need to break up with me then, to spare the heartache," you said.

"That'll never happen," Sanha shook his head, "If anyone is breaking up with anyone, it'll be you with me."

"Sanha, you don't know that-"

"I do." he looked you straight in the eye. 

"Fine," you sighed exasperatedly, "You really think this long distance thing can work?" 

"Yes. I'll miss you all the time, but that won't mean that I'll love you any less," he nodded.

"Jeez, fine, I give," you buried your head in your hands.

"Thank you," Sanha grinned. He scooted closer to you and enveloped you in a hug. You could feel yourself melting. "I missed you so much."

You could feel his heartbeat pound against your ears and everything began to spill out, "I'm so sorry about what I said. I was so scared because I didn't want to lose you, but I didn't want you to hate me for holding onto you later."

"It's okay," he hummed, "I'm just glad that you still love me."

"You're too nice," you huffed into his chest, "Everyone at your fancy music school is gonna fall head over heels for you."

"It happens," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm more worried about the architecture nerds that'll be falling at your feet." 

"Hey! I'm an architecture nerd," you whined. Sanha's clothes were still damp, but you could care less. You still had his heart.

"Sadly," he smirked. "When we get married are you gonna design our dream home?" He poked your cheek.

"Gladly."

**Author's Note:**

> a short sequel is coming soon jst abt the after math


End file.
